


prickly

by Shampain



Series: Epoch [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux is a BAMF, M/M, Post-Canon, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shampain/pseuds/Shampain
Summary: “Your fling with General Dameron aside, your rise through the ranks at such speeds suggests someone highly intelligent.”Imprisoned for crimes he definitely did commit, Armitage Hux meets someone who lets him know his options.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Series: Epoch [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822489
Comments: 9
Kudos: 66





	prickly

When it came to his body, his captors knew everything. It had all been very diligently recorded when they had first arrested him – his entire being parsed down to simple measurements of height, weight, eye colour, and distinguishing marks. Of interest to many of the jailors was the scar on his forehead, since they had all heard the story of how he had received it. It was 2.4 centimeters in length, still pink due to its youth, and had normally hidden beneath the fringe of his hair when he’d started wearing it loose.

In his persona as the imprisoned General Hux, he kept his hair slicked back, immaculate as he’d always used to be down to the First Order’s specifications. He would catch the jailors focusing on the scar whenever they had to deal with him, their eyes drawn against their will to it – three points, not quite an arrow, not quite a heart or a star. Just a mark, nothing more, and yet behind it there was the weight of legend.

It was a small annoyance, alongside everything else. Most things that would have bothered him before had now faded to mostly inconsequential. In time, Hux knew, the scar would pale and disappear with age; but he also knew that, unlike his father, he would never experience growing old, even with the slow moving gears of bureaucracy grinding in the background.

When the first of the New Republic representatives had sat down with him, his eyes had been drawn, inexorably, to Armitage’s forehead. Armitage watched with the patience of a hunter watching its prey sniffing curiously around a baited trap, though he knew it would be foolish to assume his visitor was not a threat.

“General Hux,” the man said, nodding pleasantly, smiling the sugary smile of a conman. “My name is Davin Serz. It is… quite something to meet you and see you in the flesh.”

“There is no General Hux,” Armitage said. “As the First Order no longer exists, its military structure is also defunct. My name is Armitage Hux, and I hold no official rank or title with any naval or military organization.”

Serz’s smile did not waver. “Right,” he said. “Pardon me. I was attempting politeness.”

“You were attempting to be obsequious,” Armitage returned, frankly, and watched as annoyance tinted the other man’s face. “Even if it weren’t for the fact I am a captive of the New Republic, rendering such gestures empty, those tactics have never been endearing to me.”

Serz laughed, raised one shoulder in a shrug. “They told me you were prickly,” he remarked.

Armitage blinked once, then twice, considering his new opponent. Serz’s smile had morphed into something decidedly less pleasant, but far more real – there was an edge of satisfaction to it. He likely felt very powerful at that moment, Armitage thought. Sitting in the same room as Armitage Hux, the man who fired Starkiller Base, representing the might of the New Republic in the midst of dealing out justice.

He leaned forward, slightly, watched Serz refuse to lean back. There was a table between them. Armitage could clear it in seconds. There were guards, but they were outside, and Armitage had heard the telltale hiss of the airlock that meant it would take them at least ten seconds to get it open again. Plenty of time to go for the throat.

“Something happen to your nose?” he asked, suddenly.

Serz’s expression flinched. “What?”

Armitage tipped his head to the side. He knew who Serz was. He was not a senator, not even close to being an official member of government; in fact, Serz’s strengths focused squarely on his ability to get people what they wanted. He worked for the government officially as a ‘consultant’, unofficially as something no one had the courage to name. Even though it had been Poe who was an upstanding member of the New Republic, it was Armitage who had made sure he knew exactly who everyone was. His memory almost never failed him, and he was quite sure Serz’s nose shape had changed. “It’s a bit crooked, like it’s been broken. Upset someone?”

At that, Serz’s composure slipped, revealing for a moment a very angry, seething man. Armitage was grateful for the look – it told him he was dealing with a rabid animal as opposed to a fawning menace – and he filed the information away for later. As someone who had been both rabid and fawning in separate measures, Armitage knew how to handle it.

“You’re not quite what I expected,” Serz remarked, all pleasantness again.

Armitage said nothing. He had spent his youth as a ruthless, ambitious young man, clawing his way up the ranks, to power and survival. But he had only been able to do so because he had also been patient; he knew when the right time to move was. He could out-wait Davin Serz until the nearest star burnt out.

“Well?” Serz said.

“I didn’t hear a question,” Armitage said.

“You know, this difficulty was noted down in your file, after the first set of questioning,” Serz said. “Or interrogations, rather. I hear they weren’t very pleasant.”

Armitage had weathered worse. Still, he said nothing.

“Right, so I guess a friendly chat is just out of the question,” Serz said, holding his hands up in a gesture of defeat, but still smiling that conman’s smile. “I’m here to talk business, Hux. I was sent by some very powerful people.”

“That’s interesting,” Armitage said.

“Is it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been denied several visitors already,” he said. “Interesting that you made it through.”

Serz frowned. “Who told you that?”

Armitage smiled, faintly, and Serz laughed.

“Of course,” he said, begrudgingly. “No one told you that. But I just confirmed it, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“You’re a very popular man, despite not having a raving social life,” Serz said. He motioned to Hux’s forehead. “The woman who gave you that scar has been trying to see you for weeks. She missed the cut off. Now, no one is to see you until you go to trial.”

“Except for you.”

“Yes, except for me,” Serz said. He leaned back in his seat, casting his gaze through the cell. There was not very much to look at. “I’m here to talk to you about your options.”

Armitage raised one eyebrow. It was the sort of expression he used to pull out when he ran into a cadet that was too nervous to actually speak in his presence; but it was also useful when people weren’t making very much sense. “Options? I wasn’t aware I have any.”

“Of course you do. The New Republic is interested in keeping the trial as fair as possible.”

“Certainly,” Armitage said, dryly.

Serz reached into his jacket, pulling out a handheld data pad. He flicked his fingertips over the screen, pulling up – well, something. He set it down, face up, on the table between them, and pushed it towards Armitage, who leaned forward to take a look.

His blood ran cold, but he did not dare let his expression shift. Serz was watching him. He tipped his head to the side, as if he was truly considering the picture on the screen in front of him, instead of feeling his heart squeeze painfully in his chest at the memories it brought up.

“What is that?” he asked.

“You tell me,” Serz said.

Armitage shrugged. “A drawing,” he said.

“A drawing you did.”

“I don’t draw.”

“Perhaps you can tell us what it is, then,” Serz said. “A keen mind like yours. What does it look like?”

Armitage sighed, as if he had far better things to do with his time than deal with the likes of Serz – which, _yes_ , he really did prefer the unending monotony of imprisonment over the man sitting with him. “A maze puzzle,” he tried.

“No.”

“A diagram.”

“Shockingly, no.”

“The life cycle of a beetle,” Armitage said, one corner of his mouth flicking up into a smirk.

“You’re a smart man, Hux. Playing dumb doesn’t suit you.”

“I think several former officers of the First Order would disagree with that,” Armitage replied. “But as it stands, I still don’t know what you expect me to say.”

Serz reached over and shut off the screen. “Then I’ll tell you,” he said. “It’s an energy reactor for a laser cannon.”

“It doesn’t look like one.”

“No, you’re right, it doesn’t,” Serz said. “I admit it, it took me awhile. But there was something so _familiar_ about it, it wouldn’t leave me alone. But then I realized that’s what it is – a smaller, streamlined version. Bypassing all of the big, bulky pieces you would find in a regular laser canon design. It’s for something much smaller; a canon to mount on a single-person spacecraft, perhaps.”

Armitage just looked at him. Wordlessly, between them, he was saying, _I don’t hear a question_. Serz sighed.

“Once I figured out what it was, my superiors were very interested in it,” Serz said. “Now, you have a history of cooperation with the New Republic, most notably in your participation in several enlightening interviews as to the remaining operational bases for the First Order as well as several hidden tech caches. You were also integral in the settlement of CY-78, which is of great historic importance for us as the last site of the Rebellion.”

“And yet you never gave us proper generators,” Armitage said.

Serz ignored him. “Several senators are very interested in this drawing, and what it could mean for the New Republic moving forward. In several interviews with members of the CY-78 community, we’ve come to understand that your engineering prowess has been indispensable to its operations. Therefore, we are very confident in your ability to make this drawing a reality.”

Panic flickered inside of his chest, but Armitage kept his expression unaffected as best he could, for Poe if for nothing else; but even if Serz had the ability to read his face for lies, it wouldn’t matter in the end. “Even if I could understand it,” he said, “I’m not interested.”

“No, but you _can_ understand it, because it came out of that wasps’ nest of a brain you’ve got,” Serz said. “An inspection of your workshop revealed a highly unusual number of drawing and design implements for someone who claims they don’t use them.”

Armitage raised his eyebrows. “So you found more drawings there too, then?” he asked. “I would assume that’s why you seem so keen on claiming they’re mine. But more than one person has used that workshop.”

“It was primarily yours.”

“And you found more drawings,” Armitage said, noticing Serz’s attempt to dodge.

Serz looked at the now-black screen of the data pad. “We found evidence of them,” he said, tucking the data pad back into his jacket.

“Meaning… pencils,” he said. “You found pencils. Well done.”

“We know this is not the only reactor you have designed,” Serz said.

Serz was not a fool; he would not admit to having found nothing, but Armitage knew that is exactly what the inspectors had turned up during a search of CY-78, and his workshop in particular. He had been very diligent in destroying most of his work save for anything in progress. Poe had told him he was acting paranoid, but had not stopped it; and Armitage also knew that as soon as he had been arrested Poe would have immediately gone back to get rid of anything else.

The proof existed, quite literally, on Serz’ data pad – what they’d found had been the only finished blueprint he’d allowed to exist, one that had been purposefully altered into uselessness, though no one would be able to tell just by looking at it. He’d drawn it for Poe.

“It won’t actually work,” he had said, as he’d given it to him.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on building a reactor anytime soon, so that’s fine,” Poe had said, flippant in the way he was whenever Armitage did something that surprised him. Since then it had hung, to Armitage’s everlasting bewilderment, in their sitting room.

He wondered which poor bastard had been the one to remove it from Poe’s possession. It wouldn’t have been easy.

“If you are referring to Starkiller Base, I was a consultant and team lead before becoming director of the project,” Armitage said. None of this was a secret; he was simply rehashing the facts, which Serz almost certainly was aware of. However, there was nothing more infuriating than telling someone something they already knew. “But I never built or designed anything specific to the First Order. Such things are beyond me.”

Serz gave him a pained look. “I know you can’t be this stupid,” he said, frankly. “I’ve become well-acquainted with your file, which we lifted straight out of the First Order databanks. Your fling with General Dameron aside, your rise through the ranks at such speeds suggests someone highly intelligent. There are enough battles and skirmishes on record that prove you have a flair for strategy and tactics. Frankly, your unwillingness to even hear what’s on offer is surprising me more than anything else.”

The thing was, Serz was technically correct. But Armitage was not bothered by the remarks. Instead he shrugged. “Very well,” he said. “What is _on offer_ , then, from the exalted New Republic?”

“We are interested in your experience, Hux,” Serz said. “Talent and training like yours… it is indispensable. The New Republic would like to give you a job.”

“Yet the New Republic has already made it impossible for me to exist as anything other than a villain,” Armitage returned. “So far, all I’m hearing is something that is too good to be true.”

“Well, you would remain contained under the New Republic’s law,” Serz said. “That’s to be expected. You would need to be monitored, for your own safety – we wouldn’t want anyone meting out their own personal justice, would we?”

“Yes, that would defeat the purpose of using me to make more money,” Armitage said.

“Well-”

“You’re right, Serz; I’m not stupid,” he interrupted. “I’m well aware that my skills are something that are in demand in certain circles. In fact, I’m not entirely sure my arrest didn’t happen sooner as opposed to later because someone figured out I could join any number of private enterprises and simply disappear. One trip to Canto Bight and I would be set for life, wouldn’t I?”

Serz raised his eyebrows. “Not As General Hux.”

“Not as General Hux,” Armitage agreed, pausing to straighten the cuff of his uniform, the only clothing they supplied to him. “So here we are. I am much cheaper to have on retainer than a private contractor.”

“By cooperating with the New Republic, you would no longer be considered a war criminal, and your trial would be suspended,” Serz said, plainly. “I am here to discuss this with you in prospect only, but if you are in agreement we will schedule further meetings to work out terms and contracts. You would live somewhere else – not a cell. With General Dameron, even, if that suits you.”

“I was already living with Poe before you arrested me.”

“So it suits you, then.”

Armitage had wondered if they would do this. He had not dared mentioned the possibility to Poe – wonderful, beautiful, loving Poe, who would think anything was worth keeping Armitage alive. And for that reason alone he could not speak of it, to protect Poe from his own bleeding heart. He would not have been able to bear the argument between them, regardless of whether or not Poe ended up agreeing with him.

“Poe suits me,” Armitage said. “You and the rest of the New Republic do not.”

“A difference in political ideolo-”

“Let me be clearer,” Armitage said, coldly, “since you do not seem to grasp a simple refusal. I will not, _ever_ , hand my skills to the New Republic for the purposes of advancing your military technology. I will not aid in the building of new weapons for soldiers, the training of new recruits to your navy, or even advise on your existing structures.”

“We want you for more than your military mind.”

“I don’t believe you,” Armitage replied frankly. “If you come back with a contract that says otherwise then I will happily sign that. But that’s not likely, so I think we’re done here, don’t you?”

Serz frowned at him. Possibly he had not been expecting to be turned down; but if there was one thing Armitage had learned it was that his captors often did not pay attention to the things they did not want to see. A dangerous habit out in the world, but in his case, simply an annoying one. “Very well,” Serz said, standing up from his seat. Armitage remained seated. “I will let my superiors know your answer. I feel I need to tell you that you may not get another offer like this again.”

“One can only hope.”

Serz shook his head, walking over to rap his knuckles against the door, though the guards had already started to unlock it at seeing him stand. “You’re making the wrong choice.”

“I’m making the only choice,” he said. “I won’t kill any more people.”

“Then you’ll die for the ones you already have,” Serz said.

Armitage looked him in the eye, so that there would be no misunderstanding. For a moment the other man looked like a mouse frozen beneath the shadow of a falcon; domestic life had not made Armitage any less fearsome, it seemed. “What do you think I’m waiting around here for?”

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was especially fun for me, because I got to scatter around more clues about the nature of everyone's relationships. I hope you caught em and I wasn't being too obtuse :D I've never done a series like this that bounces from each one shot to the next, it's a really transformative way of writing and totally new! I hope you're having as much fun as I am, and your comments of course are all giving me liiiife.


End file.
